


Of Dead Flowers and other Trinkets

by underwaterocean



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Gift Giving, Link is precious, Pre-Calamity (Legend of Zelda), Shy Link, Zelda is grumpy, Zelda is sassy, they're both a little confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaterocean/pseuds/underwaterocean
Summary: Zelda is trapped inside the castle for winter and gets a little salty when Link is allowed out for outing.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 109





	Of Dead Flowers and other Trinkets

_How selfish could he possibly be?_ She thought to herself as she paced back and forth within the confines of her study, the place she’d been bound to for weeks now since the harshness of winter fell over central Hyrule.

_“Oh but you’ll be much warmer in there.”_

_“Far easier to ensure your safety, Your Highness.”_

_“Perhaps it will allow you to focus on your prayers.”_

She mimicked the voices of her father's advisors in her head as she mumbled to herself, rearranging a stack of books for what felt like the twentieth time. It was simply maddening. The definition of absurdity. How was she supposed to accomplish anything when she was practically being held prisoner by her own father? Pure stupidity, she thought. But none of it was more stupid than _him._ Always there right behind her to protect her from a deranged cuckoo or a stray gargoyle that may fall and crush her while inside the castle walls. Maybe then he would fulfill their combined duties for both of them. He was so blessed, after all, as everyone so loved to tell her. 

Yet, he was absent that morning as she poked her head out on the narrow bridge to inquire about the morning menu. In his place was a rather scraggly elderly man she’d seen around but couldn’t name. His graying beard reminded her of her father and she disliked him immediately, though she recognized it was through no fault of his own. Yet another flaw for everyone to scrutinize. Scoffing, she considered sending it in the postage to her father so that he might add it to the ever growing list he no doubt kept as a tally of all the times she’d disappointed him. He’d sooner get the information that way than actually walk down to see her, choosing instead to send his guards to chastise her or his advisors to constantly ask if she’d performed a divine miracle after her morning tea. Or as it were right now, sending a guard she’d never met to keep her from leaping off the balcony and making life easier on everyone else. 

“Who are you?” she asked rather bluntly, her energy otherwise too spent to waste on being courtly. If they were going to keep her prisoner, she may as well behave like one. 

“Sir Elric, Your Highness,” he replied with the air of a man raised in the castle walls to admire the royal family. He would treat her as her title, like everyone else did, no matter how many times she failed to live up to it. It infuriated her. 

“Has something happened to Sir Link?” 

She found herself oddly fascinated by the sound of his name as it left her lips; the way it started on the tip of her tongue and rolled to the back of her mouth. Short. Efficient. Much like him, she thought with a sly grin. She didn’t use it often. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever honestly addressed him with it directly at all. He didn’t speak in her presence so there had been no friendly back and forth in which she could wield it properly. Only those infuriating glances with those startlingly intense eyes that felt like they penetrated straight through her every time she caught him lifting them to regard her, even when both of them knew he was breaking his code of honor by doing so. 

“He requested to join the scouting party out in the field, Your Highness. It would seem a few stray bokoblin got a little too close to the gates for Your Majesty’s liking. He should return for the nightly shift at sundown,” the man’s voice jolted her from her thoughts that had ended up back on him yet again. 

She sucked in a sharp breath at his words, pointedly turning her back and shutting the door without so much as a proper goodbye. If he wanted to tattle on her to her father, so be it. What more could he take from her anyway? And Link. _Link._ She let his name sit heavy on her tongue now as she heaved herself into the center of the room, holding both her fists at her sides as her own frustration billowed like hot steam from her ears. 

How everyone clapped when he came near. He would save them all, unlike her. She was determined to damn them. To let Hyrule sink into ruin simply because she wasn’t pious enough. Even when her knees bled from hours spent kneeling at the feet of the Goddess statue begging like a peasant for a shred of mercy while her empty eyes stared down at her in disgust. Even when she drenched herself in the frigid holy water at her feet, praying through the fire burning in her extremities as she lost sensation in them from the cold. No, she was simply a selfish, stubborn princess who defied her father on purpose for no reason other than to grow the animosity between them. That's what they said about her anyway. As if they knew her at all. 

And then there was him. He was always flaunting his skills in front of her with that Goddess damned sword that marked him as the chosen one. How his muscles would flex as he swung the heavy blade with all the ease of a child wielding a sapling branch, how he wiped at the sweat on his brow that served as tangible proof of his dedication, how he tilted his head as he sneaked another glance at her, always checking to make sure she was watching in the distance as if she wasn’t already forced to bear witness to it anyway. 

Now he dared to flaunt his status as her father’s favorite. He was permitted outside the walls, yet she was starkly denied. She pushed her brows together as she stormed about her room, certainly not picturing the way his hair would bounce as he straddled his horse over the hills of Hyrule field. It was much too long than what was considered standard uniform yet no one had been inclined to tell him to shorten it. Not that she noticed. She wondered if he’d lost the tan on his upper arms from having spent so much time indoors. Had the speckling across his cheeks become less noticeable then as well? Growling at herself for resorting to thinking of him _yet again_ , she pushed the image of him aside as she poured back into her research journals. 

But as the hours passed she found that she’d exhausted every last dead end of her own notes she could find to distract herself away from thoughts of him chatting with the other men, likely discussing how unpleasant he found her company. She was utterly sullen as she moved onto the only other literature she had left, forcing her eyes down rows upon rows of prayer journals from past castle priestesses in hopes that one magic word might unveil the power said to be slumbering within her, or turn her into a newt. Whichever came first. Both felt equally likely to her at that point. 

As she poured over the books, she found an oddly curious side note scrawled into the empty spaces between the columns, detailing one of the priestess’ admission to having been attracted to the scullery maid who had brought her supper. It sat in such stark contrast to the religious scripts it was sandwiched between that she couldn’t help but smirk at the thought that that particular journal hadn’t been intended to be shared publicly, much less with her. Without thinking, she turned to joke with him about it, briefly hypothesizing if it might earn her a soft chuckle in return. But then she remembered it wasn’t him behind her. It was Sir Elric. 

He was likely to take great offense to the assault on her innocence and run to have it scourged from the record before groveling at her father’s feet for apology for allowing her to have read it while in his charge. He certainly wouldn’t have found it humorous as she did. Link would have at least given her a side eye or a tilt of his lip in return.

For all he took his job very seriously, he often overlooked the little things she did that others before him had fretted over, such as mocking the haughty court ladies or giggling when the elderly priest fell asleep at morning prayer and knocked his forehead on the pew before him. He would simply lift his eyes and lower them just as quickly without so much as a whisper leaving his lips. Some days she swore she would catch the ghost of a smile there, though she could never be too sure with how quickly he turned his face from her afterwards. 

She was determined to hear him laugh in full at least once, if only just to hear the tones of it. Though it felt like an impossible task most of the time. Some days he was looser and would crinkle his eyes in such a way that hinted at some emotion underneath the stone mask he usually wore. Then there were the days his eyes were dark, almost gray and he appeared as readable as the shelves her books of ancient scripture sat upon and just as silent. She’d yet to hear him utter a single word though she knew he had to speak with all the work he did around the castle. Just not to her. It was almost as if he were forbidden to do so. More than once she’d caught him opening his mouth, only to shut it tightly as he snapped his head away, almost inwardly scolding himself for forgetting his place. 

She sighed heavily as she realized her mind had started to swim in thoughts of him once more, wondering if he hadn't somehow managed to curse her in some way. It was becoming an increasingly regular occurrence that was driving her mad. Why was he everywhere inside her head even when he wasn’t standing right behind her? She couldn’t even sketch plans for a new Sheikah device without picturing what it would look like in his hands. Oh his hands, she thought, dropping her head into her palms as she saw them flexed around the handle of the sword or his fingers tapping impatiently on its pommel as he suffered through yet another royal dinner while standing his usual several paces away from her.

She opted to escape him in sleep instead, shooing Sir Elric away in the name of decency so that she could fall onto her mattress and scream into the plushness of one of her pillows. 

Sometime later when she begrudgingly discovered that he only came more vividly in the context of a dream, she found herself halfheartedly sketching the blueprint of a greenhouse her father would certainly never allow her to build and would likely live out its meaningless existence trapped in the confines of her journal, much like her, she thought with a gloomy expression. A knock startled her, her pen scratching a jagged line from the proposed doorway all the way into the margin of her paper as she ran through the list of everyone it could possibly be. 

“You may enter,” she responded, hoping it was simply a maid coming to serve her a treat the kitchen cook had set aside for her. 

But she recognized the softness of the footfall immediately and turned around. He looked fresh off the saddle with his windblown hair and chapped cheeks. The way the wind had dried his hair of sweat and left it in ringlets across his forehead was oddly handsome, which she found annoying as she quickly looked away from his face in favor of turning her back on him and pretending to be engrossed in the doodles that were currently before her. 

“Glad to see you enjoyed your little outing,” she said dryly, glad he couldn’t see the warmth on her cheeks, though he’d likely attribute it to the heat from her hearth anyway. 

True to form he said nothing, only standing at attention a safe distance away as he always did. She wished for once he would dare to come kneel beside her or ask her what she was working on. But it would seem the words of the hero were too unworthy of her ears. What he must think of her. Here they were meant to be partners. To work together to seal the calamity. But like always, she was unable to hold up her end of the deal. He must despise her. She’d worked herself into a quiet tizzy, whipping around when she heard him begin to lightly approach her. 

“I’m quite busy. Prayer and all that. You may go. Shut the door behind you,” she snipped at him, watching as his eyes widened slightly at her tone before darting to the floor and backing away from her. He hesitated a moment and she almost turned back around to scold him again before she heard the door click, leaving her only with her thoughts once more. 

This time when she fell into bed it was with wetness at the edges of her eyes. What had she even wanted him to do? Burst into the doorway like an old friend? Laugh with her about something silly he’d done in his travels? Offer her a treat from his pockets? She knew he always had something sweet on him. His sweet tooth was as ravenous as hers was, though he at least had the decency to be quiet about it. She scoffed at herself, wondering if he knew half as much about her as she did about him, even if it was only based on observation she had from the months they’d been forced to be with each other. He probably didn’t think of her at all. In fact, he’d probably asked to go on that scouting mission to get away from her. 

The more she tortured herself with her spiraling thoughts, the more she convinced herself to barge out the door and ask him what his problem was. So she heaved herself from bed, slipped on her warmest robe and charged to the door, only stopping when something caught her eye. She’d been locked in that room for weeks, so she knew its every intricacy in its most minute detail. The satchel that sat on the dresser by her doorway had not, in fact, been there all day. He must have sat it down when he entered her chambers and forgotten to take it when she forced him to leave. She picked it up, partially relieved she now had a real reason to pester him while on duty as she opened the door. 

The hour was now well past midnight and the moon cast a soft shadow across the narrow bridge to her chambers. It took her a moment to find him. He was seated with his back braced against the cold stone, an almost melancholy look to his eyes. She had never considered how lonely it might be for him to stand outside her door all night with only the stars to keep him company. It was a loneliness she knew all too well and wasn’t eager to see cast upon him, as irrationally irritated with him as she was. 

“Sir Link?”

Her voice seemed to startle him and he leaped upward, maneuvering himself into a more knightly stature as she approached. 

“You seem to have forgotten this,” she said, holding out the bag, choosing to ignore explaining why she was out of bed at such an hour. 

He looked down at the satchel in her hands with a pensive look across his face, but simply shook his head in return. 

“Well, it isn’t mine. Perhaps it is Sir Elric’s. I supposed I could ask him tomorrow morning.”

She watched him struggle with himself as she spoke, displaying more emotion than she’d ever seen him show before. She wasn’t sure if it was the hour or the position they found themselves in, with her improperly clothed for the weather and no distractions he could use as an excuse not to look at or speak to her but he seemed downright nervous and it intrigued her. He licked his bottom lip as if he were about to speak but thought better of it, looking down at the tops of his boots instead. 

She let out a long breath, the fire from earlier all but entirely vanquished when she realized she would yet again get no reaction from him. She turned, feeling her earlier upset rising again and she shuffled back to the safety of her bed. But before she could tilt the handle she heard it, softer than it had any right to be. His voice. 

“It’s for you.”

She momentarily froze, her mind twitching as it quickly filed the melody of it away for use in future daydreams and night dreams and any other moment where he was all it could manage to focus on. Slowly, she turned back around and walked back towards him. If he was nervous before, he was swimming in it now. She could almost hear the sound of his metal armor tinkling together as he lightly shivered beneath the heavy plates. 

She looked down at the satchel in her hand and slowly released the tension in the draw string. Inside, she found several clippings of hardy winter plants, harvested and bundled much like she would have done it herself; not too tight to damage their integrity, but secure enough to keep them from coming undone. Each bundle was labeled with little parchment tags with what she assumed was his blocky handwriting. There were even a few insects, their wings still attached in perfect form, though some of those were unlabeled. 

She looked up from the bag to see him studying her face intently as his chest heaved up and down slowly. 

“I wasn’t sure what those were called,” he said softly, pointing to the winged insect in her hand. 

She questioned him with her eyes, her heart moving faster than her mind as she jumped to more conclusions than seemed appropriate. 

“You had mentioned…” he continued when for once she seemed unable to fill the silence between them, “You mentioned that you had run out of specimens.” 

She could hardly string a simple sentence together as her heart pounded in her chest and the bag burned a hole in her hand. Eventually, she managed to find her voice again, all her earlier upset and her projections upon him fading away as she came to the realization that was blatantly clear to her now. 

“Is that why you requested that shift? To get these for me?” she squeaked out. 

He merely swallowed hard and nodded, his speaking limit for the day seemingly met as he shifted his weight anxiously back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

No one had ever thought of her in that way. Not as a princess, but as simply Zelda. There were troves of people eager to offer her a slew of tools to assist her in her role as royalty and supposed Goddess incarnate. There was nothing that seemed to please people more than reminding her of what she should be doing to fulfill their idealization of her. But he had brought her those things not because it would help her to realize her destiny, but simply because she wanted them for her own purposes. Her own happiness. It was so achingly thoughtful that she felt as though her heart might leap from the collar of her shirt if she didn’t escape soon and take a full breath. 

She managed to croak out a nearly unintelligible thank you before rushing back through her door, slamming it behind her as she desperately filled her burning lungs with air. But soon, her body was moving on its own accord and once she had reoriented herself, she could hardly stop her path of motion as she lay the bag down on her desk and flew back through the doorway a second time, nearly colliding with him as he paced back and forth in the small space, scrubbing his hands over his face in a rare show of emotion. 

The look he gave her when he heard the sound of the heavy door collide with the stone as it flew open once again was one of pure terror. He tried desperately to bring some type of composure back to himself, but she ignored him. Determined, she strode up to him and before she could convince herself otherwise, wrapped her arms around his armored form, feeling him stiffen despite the metal barrier between them. 

It was as awkward as it was brief, but when it was done and she pulled back to look at him, it seemed to have served its purpose. Whatever had been built between them by forces outside of their control had been broken. She had to fight the urge to grin when she noticed the dusting of pink across his cheeks that had nothing to do with the nippy air. He was most definitely blushing. 

“Goodnight Link,” she offered, cutting off his title in favor of a friendlier tone, smiling slightly as she straightened her robes where they had been tousled between them. 

He cleared his throat and lifted an arm to rub at the back of his neck, the reddish hue grower deeper the longer her eyes were upon him. 

“Goodnight...Zelda.”

She would fall asleep to the images of her knight bent over picking weeds for her in the snow, the shadow of a smile on her lips while he stood on the other side of her heavy door, muttering her words to him over and over in case he might forget them. 

“Goodnight Link,” he heard in his mind in her own voice, forming the words with his own lips until they transformed into a grin of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Went to write another chapter of Pieces and came out with this. I hope you enjoy spicy Zelda and shy Link. Also, I had no idea what to title this. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Happy Monday!
> 
> I have a disease where I am blinded to spelling mistakes and grammatical errors the first 13 times I read something. Sometimes I go back and edit and embarrass myself. So sorry if you caught this before my 5th edit lol


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